Inside My Head
by inkwheels
Summary: Jane sees a therapist. Music to go along with it: Alanis Morissette's song "The Couch".


_**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Rizzoli & Isles. No copyright infringement is intended.**_

* * *

I don't like to let anyone see any of my emotions except for one…anger.

Why?

To me, anger means strength because it's fierce and powerful, and showing it means I'm no one to fuck with. It also masks all the other emotions I'm really feeling inside; the ones I don't show and sometimes don't want to deal with.

The only problem with anger is that it's brought me here, to a shrink; a nice little request from Maura who is angry with me because she doesn't think I share enough of my feelings with her. She even threatened to leave me unless I talked to someone other than her. Honestly, that's the last thing I want because it took so long to get her.

At first, she wanted to choose the doctor for me, but I protested because it felt like a set up. I know about patient confidentiality and all that bullshit, but still. I wanted to choose someone in neutral territory.

So here I am. Sitting in this stale waiting room and feeling somewhat overwhelmed because I'm about to say things I normally wouldn't say to anyone.

"Detective?" I heard the young receptionist call out to me.

Standing, I smoothed out my jeans. "Yes."

"The doctor will see you now."

I smiled at her and walked through the door; my stomach gnawing away because of my nerves.

A tall dark haired man in his mid-fifties greeted me. "Detective Rizzoli, it's nice to meet you. Please, have a seat."

I shook his hand and then sat on the couch opposite him. "Thanks for taking me on short notice."

"You're welcome. I read the file that the department sent over and it seems you've had a few sessions with Dr. Wijas over the years due to various incidents concerning your job, is that correct?"

"Yes."

He looked at me over his wire-rimmed glasses. "Dr. Wijas states that you have always completed the necessary sessions suggested by the department, but that you never really had much to say in them. Why do you suppose that is?"

I shrugged. "I don't really like to talk about certain things."

"Well, I can pick out six instances where your life was threatened and three of them involve a man named Charles Hoyt. I would assume that coming close to death six times would prompt you to say at least _something_ about it."

The sound of Hoyt's name made my mouth dry up and my leg started to bounce with nervousness. I sighed and looked at him. "It's hard for me to talk about the things that have happened to me."

"And why is that?"

I thought about it for a moment. "Because if I talk about them then I have to re-live the experience all over again and I'd rather not."

He tapped his pen on his bottom lip. "Keeping those feelings locked inside you, Detective only does more harm than good as you well know. But then again, this is why you're here, isn't it?" He smiled at me with a genuine smile.

I nodded in agreement. "My girlfriend thinks I need to deal with these things. I talk to her about some of it, but not enough apparently."

"Well, that's not healthy for you or for her."

I rubbed my hands together as my palms started to sweat and my scars started to ache. "I don't want to lose her so I'm trying to fix this."

"You have to want to do this for yourself as well."

"I do. I…I'm not easy to be with because of my job. Things happen that are out of my control and if I get hurt…I feel like I spend a lot of time trying to convince her that I'm okay so that she won't worry so…so she won't leave me."

He motioned to my hands; probably saw me fidgeting with them. "The scars…"

"Courtesy of Charles Hoyt." I held them up, turning them around a few times so he got a good look. At this point in my life, it no longer bothered me to show them to people.

"I read what happened. Were you and your girlfriend together at the time?"

"No. Maura and I met not long after that, but we didn't start dating until about a year and a half ago. We were friends when Hoyt kidnapped me and then when we were at the prison infirmary and he…he…almost killed us both." My hands immediately balled into fists and I squeezed hard.

"I can see that makes you angry."

"Fuck yeah that makes me angry. He almost slit her throat right in front of me and I…I was pinned down by one of the guards and…" My thoughts drifted back to that day and I instantly felt like I was there again. "I couldn't get away. I wanted to but I…I should've done something sooner because he cut her." I looked up at the doctor. "He's my nightmare, not hers. The scars should be on me, not her."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I should have been able to protect her, I'm a cop for Christ sakes. Instead, I allowed him to control me and she almost died because of it."

"You both almost died, Detective."

"Yes, but I'm more concerned about her."

"Don't you think that's a little selfish?"

I was taken aback by his comment. "How so?"

"Well, if you love her, don't you want to be around for her? Think about how she feels. I'm sure she doesn't want you to die any more than you don't want her to die."

I sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I screwed up. I didn't protect her."

"It says here that Hoyt is dead."

"Yes. I killed him," I said proudly. "I drove that fucker right to hell where he belongs."

"So it's over. You don't think about him anymore."

_Dammit. _

"I…I'd be lying if I said that I didn't."

"Why do you think about him if he's no longer a threat to you?"

"I can't help it. He turns my dreams into nightmares and the scars are a constant reminder of each time I crossed paths with him."

"Are you still having nightmares?"

I hesitated for a second, debating about my answer. I wanted to deny it but thought better of it considering I was in this office and it was time to lay it all out on the line. "Yes," I answered, looking down at my hands.

"Does your girlfriend know this?"

"Yes. I end up waking her in the middle of the night."

I could see him scribbling things down on his pad of paper. "And I suppose you don't talk about it with her do you?"

"What's there to talk about that hasn't already been said? It's the same scenarios over and over. Sometimes I die in it but most of the time…she does." I felt my stomach tighten at the thought.

"What do you tell her then?"

"Just that it was about Hoyt. No details. She doesn't need to know."

"Why?"

"Oh, I dunno maybe I don't feel like telling her that Hoyt slits her throat and then rapes her right in front of me." I shrugged. "Not the best conversation to have in the middle of the night or over breakfast. Hell, it's not one I want to have ever." I chewed on my bottom lip. "It doesn't happen every night."

"How often?"

"One, maybe two times a week."

"And that's lately?"

"Yes."

"What about before this incident?"

"Almost every night."

He nodded. "Okay, so it's better in terms of frequency. Do you have any other nightmares that don't involve Hoyt?"

_Fuck. Why'd he have to ask that?_

"Once in a while I have one about the shooting at the precinct."

He flipped through his notes. "Ah, yes. This appears to be the worst of all the instances you've encountered, based on these notes."

I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything. He was right and I didn't see the need to say I agreed.

"Were you and your girlfriend together when this happened?"

"Just after it happened. I had feelings for her for a while and it took getting shot through the gut to realize just how much I love her. She took care of me every step of the way."

"So there was a hostage situation."

"Yes. She and my brother were in the morgue with me. My brother was shot and bleeding internally. She was doing everything she could to stabilize him until we could get him some help. Things went sour when a fellow cop decided to turn on us. They had the building surrounded so he grabbed me and used me as a shield to get away." I stopped for a second to collect my thoughts. "I remember being thankful that he grabbed me and not Maura but then when I got outside I started to panic because I knew they were stuck in the building with other gunmen running around in there. Plus, my brother was running out of time."

The doctor shifted in his chair, listening intently.

"I begged them to shoot him and no one would. I tried a couple of times and didn't know what else to do to end the situation other than to pull the gun down and pray that I didn't hit anything major when I pulled that trigger." I couldn't help but laugh at the thought of Maura's anatomy lessons. "Maura's always correcting me on the human anatomy so I figured I had an idea of where to shoot." I swallowed hard and tucked my bottom lip between my teeth. "Turns out I might have missed a lesson."

"I remember reading in the papers that you were in critical condition for quite some time."

I nodded and once again looked down at my hands, as if they could save me from this mess. "I really did a number on myself. I was in a coma for about a week and then had several surgeries to repair internal bleeding. It umm…it was really hard on Maura." My voice cracked and I felt my eyes starting to pool with tears. "While what happened brought us together, it's also a major reason why it's torn us apart."

"How much of this have you discussed with her?"

"Just the need-to-know stuff."

"And what do you consider need to know?"

"What the doctors told me after my examinations, when my physical therapy appointments were scheduled, we need more beer. Stuff like that."

"And how do you feel about that day?"

"How do you _think_ I'd feel about that day? Hoyt is bad but that day was the worst day of my life. I was trying to protect her and save my brother." A few tears rolled down my cheeks and I quickly wiped them away. "She saw the whole thing."

He looked at me, confused. "I thought she was inside."

"S.W.A.T. made their way inside seconds after Marino dragged me outside so she was safe down in the morgue. She came running outside and I heard her call my name a split second before I pulled the trigger."

He wrote a few more things down. "Has she discussed how she felt about that day?"

"Of course."

"And you haven't reciprocated with how you feel?"

I stood up and started to pace. "No."

"How do you _really_ feel about that day?"

I stopped by the window and looked out at the city and the clear blue sky above. "It makes me so angry. I fucked up big time."

"And why do you say that?"

"Because after I was able to think it through, there were other ways I could have stopped him. Doing what I did not only hurt me but hurt her as well."

"Have you told her that you're angry about that day?"

"No. I don't have to. She picks up on it." I turned around and started walking around the room, looking at all his stuff. "I never in a million years thought she would have witnessed it. And then to make matters worse, technically I died in front of her while on the way to the hospital not once but twice. And then she witnessed _everything_ while I was recuperating."

"What do you mean _everything_?"

"She saw my wounds and watched them turn to ugly scars. She had to help me to the bathroom and to bathe. She had to dress me and help feed me at the beginning when I was too weak to do it myself. She had to cart my ass to therapy and watch me struggle to even take two steps forward. It was like I was a fucking baby and I had no one to blame but myself. And _that_ pisses me off."

"So you're angry because you put her in that position?"

"Yes. She saved my brother's life and I repaid her by making her life miserable for almost six months."

"Why haven't you told her about this?"

"Because I can't tell you how many times she's yelled at me, along with my mother, about how I'm reckless and that my job is far too dangerous."

"She's right."

I whipped my head around to look at him. "Excuse me?"

"You just said you were mad at yourself because of what you did and you're saying she's mad at you for what you did, then she's right in being mad at you."

I shook my head and went back to the window.

"What about the instance at the rail yard back in May? It says that you were stabbed in the leg while trying to apprehend a suspect."

My shoulders slumped. "Yeah. Punk nicked my femoral artery and I almost bled out. Lucky for me that my partner drives like a maniac and Mass General was only a few minutes away."

"Was Maura with you when this happened?"

"No."

"And how did she react?"

"Not well, of course. I remember waking up and having her yell at me about how I wasn't careful enough." I let out a huff. "What the hell am I supposed to do? Go out there with a Kevlar suit from head to toe? Things happen. I'm a cop."

"And how much did you talk to her about _this_ situation?"

"I honestly tried to talk to her about this one but it always ended up in an argument and me sleeping on the couch. Ever since the shooting, she's even more afraid of my job."

"That's understandable."

"But she acts like I'm out there looking for trouble. Like I'm…I'm looking to get shot or stabbed."

"She loves you and cares about you so she's going to worry."

"I know but she's trying to change me."

"How so?"

"She wants me to be less angry, less stressed, more open, more patient…it's like she doesn't really like who I am."

"Is that really who you are or who you've become because of the traumatic events that have happened to you?"

_Shit. Good question._

He looked at me, watching my every move as I thought about the question but couldn't give an answer.

"Let's talk about what happened a few weeks ago."

I closed my eyes and sighed. "Isn't time up yet?"

"No, I'm afraid we still have plenty of time left. Let's talk about Mr. Bianchi."

I licked my lips and ran my hands through my hair. "Fine. He kidnapped me and held me hostage, handcuffed to a bed." I chewed on the inside of my cheek. "And no I haven't talked to her about it because I didn't really feel the need since she watched the entire thing."

"So she was with you?"

"No. He had a video camera hooked up in the bedroom and sent the video feed to my partner. She…she watched it all."

"And what happened?"

I chuckled sarcastically. "You read my file."

"I know but I want to hear it from you."

I stood up and started to pace. "He dressed me in his wife's stupid clothes. She had passed away a few years ago and he kept all of her things, almost like a shrine." I stopped and went back to the window. "Like Hoyt, he drugged me when he kidnapped me so by the time I came to I was restrained and couldn't get away." I laughed but not because it was funny, it was out of nerves. "When I woke up I seriously thought Hoyt had come back from the dead to torture me some more. Then I panicked and thought about Maura. I…I started screaming her name." I turned back towards him. "Turns out I was all alone."

"Did that make it any better?"

"Yes and no. Yes because I knew she was safe and no because if I was going to die then that meant I'd never see her again." I quickly looked back out the window so he wouldn't see the single tear roll down my cheek.

"So what happened?"

"Long story short, I had to play along and pretend I was his wife so that the lunatic wouldn't freak out on me."

"Did he sexually assault you?"

"No. It wasn't about sex at all. At first he was glad to have me there, obviously thinking that I was his wife. But then as time went on he started to get angry."

"Why?"

"Because she had died. He was mad that she left him."

"And how did he react?"

"He hit me a few times. He didn't have my legs tied so at one point I wrapped them around his neck and started to squeeze but he pulled on my knee cap and dislocated it and I let go."

"Then what happened?"

"At this point he was pissed at me for _not_ being his wife and that it wasn't going as he had planned it. He kept waving the gun around and would fire it at me but the bullets hit the mattress and the wall. I don't think he was ready to kill me but he was getting close."

"And Maura was watching this?"

I sighed and looked down. "Yes."

"How did all of this make you feel?"

I was starting to get annoyed with that question; the standard shrink question. "How do you think, Doc? I'm unable to move and some psycho is shooting at me!" I walked back to the couch and sat down. "I didn't know she was watching at the time. She told me afterwards." I shook my head. "It was just like the shooting at the precinct."

"You're angry."

"Yeah. I'm pissed. They should never have let her watch that! I'm bullshit at them for letting it happen."

"Do you think it would have changed anything?"

"Absolutely. Hearing about it is one thing but seeing it is something else entirely. You can't unsee things."

"You can't unhear things either, Detective."

"Yeah but you can edit what someone is told before you say it."

He shot me a look with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, but that can sometimes lead to lies."

"It's not lying. Lying is not telling the truth. Omitting parts of a story is not."

"But in a way it is because you're changing the story."

I ran my hands over my face in frustration. "The bottom line is that she saw it. She saw me vulnerable. She saw me helpless. She saw me almost die…again."

He scribbled notes into his notebook. "How did the situation come to an end?"

I sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. "He took a shot and grazed my shoulder. When he went to aim at me again, back up arrived and they took him down."

"Was Maura there?"

"Yes." It came out more like a squeak rather than a word. "She uncuffed me." I thought back to the scene, her warm hands cupping my face; tears in her eyes.

"Were you okay with her being there now that the situation was secured?"

"Yes because she comforts me and calms me like no one on this planet but no because I didn't want her to get hurt. What if this situation had gotten out of hand and did end the way it did? I…I don't want to think about it."

"And you shouldn't. There's no use in worrying about what could have happened when it can't happen."

I paused for a few minutes and the silence hung in the air. "She's seen a lot over the years."

He glanced at my file. "Seems like it," he said in a calm voice considering all the details he'd scanned through. "What about this incident when you were hit by a car. A suspect hit you while fleeing the scene."

I was beginning to hate that he was bringing these things up. "Seriously? Do we have to dig everything up? This was a while ago and means nothing."

"They all add up, Detective. And if they're adding up for you then they are adding up for her."

I sighed heavily in frustration and shook my head. "We went to interrogate a suspect and he fled. I ran after him but lost him in an alley. When I was walking back to find my partner, he came barreling down the street and plowed into me."

"What was the extent of your injuries?"

"Broke three or four ribs in my back and broke my shoulder blade when I hit the windshield. One of the broken ribs punctured my lung."

"How did Maura come into play for this incident?"

"Maura and I weren't together at the time but we were friends and co-workers. She came to visit me a few times in the hospital and when I was recovering at home."

"Has this ever come up in conversation?"

"Yeah. They all do. I could have gotten a paper cut off one of my reports and she'd bring it up, saying that I'm reckless and out of control."

"So it appears to me that she was around for most of your injuries, whether you were a couple or not at the time of them happening."

"Yes."

He nodded his head while he was thinking. "She _has_ seen a lot."

"Yes." I hesitated for a second. "Too much."

He closed my file. "So all in all, what makes you angry on a daily basis?"

I thought for a moment. "Could be a case I can't crack, could be a long day, maybe I didn't get to eat all day, or maybe it's just PMS."

"So it's not anything personal, it's mostly related to your job."

"The only time it becomes personal is when she or my family hassles me about my job."

"And you take _that_ personally."

"Yes. It's my job and I love my job so when someone has something to say about it, it makes me mad."

"What about this lack of communication you seem to have with her when it comes to how you feel?"

I shrugged. "I don't want to burden her with my pain."

"You sure that's all it is?"

I got up and started my pacing habit when I felt cornered. "She doesn't need to know the extent of it."

"Why?"

"She worries enough as it is. When I shot myself, if I were to tell her how much pain I was really in, it would have made her worry even more _and_ it would have made her angrier with me for doing it in the first place."

"So you lied to her."

There it was again, that word lie. I almost snapped at him; denying it, but it really was true. "It's a harsh word but…yes."

"How bad was it? Did you tell _anyone_?"

"No. I'm not a weakling. I'm Jane Rizzoli, the only woman homicide detective in Boston and a 40 caliber bullet wasn't going to make me look like I couldn't handle it."

"It?"

"The pain."

"Did you feel like you deserved the pain? Because you have insinuated that you shouldn't have shot yourself in the first place."

"Maybe, yeah."

"I think what needs to happen is that you need to tell Maura how you really felt after the shooting."

"Huh?"

"I think it's important for you to admit it to her and to yourself. It's a starting point."

"But it was over a year ago, it doesn't matter anymore."

"I disagree. That pain, albeit a different kind, is still there and won't go away until you let it go. This was the most life threatening injuries you've sustained and carries the most impact in your relationship based on what we've discussed."

The thought sent my stomach churning. "I…"

"You said she wants you to be more open and this is how you are going to start."

"Shit," I mumbled under my breath.

"You look scared, Detective."

"Scared? _Really?_" I huffed. "I'm not scared."

"Then what's the problem?"

"What if it makes her worry even more?"

"It's almost neutral ground because it already happened. Going forward, however, if something were to happen to you, you _need_ to be honest with her. This exercise will help you get more comfortable in talking about it and it will help her get more comfortable hearing it. Right now she's not hearing it at all and that's _not_ helping."

He had a point and I didn't know what to say.

"Let's conclude for today. Talk to her and schedule another appointment if you feel you need to. I'm not going to push you because that's just counter-productive."

I stood up and thanked him, shook his hand and exited. At the start of the session I was feeling okay and now I was nervous as hell.

* * *

After dinner, we brought our glasses of wine over to the couch and sat down; the nerves started to return despite having a good amount of wine in me.

She reached out for my hand, sensing my unease. Her thumb rubbed my knuckles, calming me slightly.

"So…umm…my therapist suggested that it would be good for us if I were to tell you exactly how I felt after the shooting."

Her head tilted and her brow creased. "We've talked about that day numerous times."

I sucked in a deep breath. "I mean…how I felt physically."

"Oh."

I swallowed hard and cleared my throat as I set my glass down on the coffee table. "When I was in the hospital and you would ask me how bad the pain was I guess I…I lied to you."

"Jane." The tone in her voice was saturated with disappointment.

"I'd cut the pain scale in half when you asked me but in reality it was unbearable. There were times when I'd burst into tears after you left because it was so bad."

Her eyes started to glisten with tears and she gripped my hand harder.

"When I came home, it was the same thing. It was awful and because I wouldn't take the drugs they gave me, it was hard to manage the pain a lot of the time."

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

I closed my eyes and blew out a breath. "Because I didn't want you to worry about me any more than you already were. Maura, you saw it all happen and you had to deal with everything. I put that burden on you to begin with and I didn't want to make it worse."

"Oh, Jane," she sighed as she ran her hand along my jaw.

Once I started talking I couldn't stop. "The whole thing scared me to death, Maura. I didn't think I'd ever make it out of that hospital. Lying there in limbo; awake but not really awake because of all the medication. I could hardly move and my life had been reduced to waiting for the next dose of painkillers so I could felt somewhat normal."

"Jane." Maura was crying now.

"I'd get a handle on the pain and then go to therapy and it would set me back."

"You should have told me how bad it was."

"There was nothing you could have done, Maura. All you would have gotten out of it was an ulcer." Now I was crying. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that I didn't say anything but I'm even sorrier for putting you in that position."

"Jane, I _want_ to take care of you when you're sick or hurt, but I just want you to be honest with me." Her hands cupped my face and then she kissed me.

"I know you worry about me and I tell you I'm fine but I'm not."

She laughed through her tears. "I know. Did you really think that I believed that you were?"

I couldn't help but laugh as well. "No, I guess not."

She held my hands tightly. "Jane. It's okay to be vulnerable around me or scared or whatever else you need to feel. You know I'd never judge you. I know you think otherwise about your colleagues, but I'm your girlfriend. I care about you more than you'll ever know."

I smiled and gripped her hands back. "I know. I know you do. It's all about hurting you and I don't want to do that by telling you every detail."

"But keeping it to yourself is making you angry. I've seen a change in you over the years and every time you're hurt, it makes you angrier. I don't want it to get to a point where it clouds your judgment and gets you killed. I can't live without you."

I leaned in and kissed her. "I love you, Maura. I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"Then let me in, Jane. Let me be there for you." She kissed my forehead.

"You've always been there for me. Trust me. He pointed out every time I got hurt." I gave her a lopsided grin. "There were kind of a lot of times."

"Listen to me, Jane. I know that your job is dangerous and I will always tell you to be careful. I will always worry but I need you to be honest with me. That's the missing piece."

I sighed, somewhat relieved. "I'm going to try. I promise."

"That's all I ask is that you try."

I nodded and kissed her. "I'm sorry."

Her hand brushed through my hair. "We'll get through this just like we always have," she whispered to me as she kissed me back.

I honestly did want to try and be more open with her, but it was going to be hard. It's not something I'm used to but if I want her in my life I really have no choice.

I would want the same in return so it's not entirely fair to be a one way street on the matter. And as much as I'd like to hope I'm not in a situation where I'd have to put this new plan into action, I know that's far from the truth.

_**~THE END~**_


End file.
